Dark Things Still - Philip Andrew Lisi

In Dark Things Still, Philip Andrew Lisi quietly awes the reader with his luminous poems. Balancing broader themes of cruelty and mercy, loss and renewal, Lisi deftly traverses diverse human topography: the memory of a beloved colleague lost to cancer, a child tormented by classmates, a middle-aged son coming to terms with an aging parent, the joy found in chasing fireflies, the lingering sweetness of a first kiss. Animal imagery threads through these memories and moments, weaving the collection's narratives together and imbuing observations of creatures as mundane as a bullfrog or as ethereal as a luna moth with revelation. Dark Things Still is a vivid and moving first collection that invites us to "notice / the dark things in the corners" and bid them come into the light.

-Daun Daemon, A Prayer for Forgiving My Parents

In this vibrant collection, Lisi's speaker yearns for the ideal but faces a reality where darkness constantly lurks: a cold mother's apron ties are "like little scarlet whips," and the beauty of a glasswing butterfly is observed until the speaker's son severs its wings "with violent delight." Yet, while there are "dark things still," love (or "something like love") still exists in the margins. Here, we encounter the tender love of family and animals, where their existences collide in worlds domestic and natural. Lisi brings wonder-filled attention to that which is hidden, ignored, and, at times, even reviled: small creatures such as spiders earn respect, an injured opossum demands reverence, and a skunk in the yard is a "Strange angel!" In the end, Lisi's speaker emerges from "dust and shadow" and sees "only light."

-Genevieve Betts, A New Kind of Tongue

Dark Things Still brings us to the center of ourselves, aligning our energies with the fluctuations of everyday life and the natural world. What we find in these poems, if we are really paying attention, is a guidebook for teaching the eye - and heart - to see the kaleidoscopic essence of our own humanity.

-Michelle Reale, Let it Be Extravagant